


Untitled

by KathyIsWeird



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: Beware, F/F, Not a happy ending for msr, fellas is it gay to bathe with your gf, its just referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 17:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyIsWeird/pseuds/KathyIsWeird
Summary: Little bit of angst, lots of love.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Stella Gibson/Dana Scully
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly a writing warmup. I guess let me know if you want more?

The boisterous sound of a train off in the distance started as a cameo in her dream. It chugged closer and closer to her, unwilling to stop. She sat on aching knees, tied to the tracks with her hands behind her back. The angry material of the binds tore at her wrists as she wiggled and tried her damndest to undo the knots. She closed her eyes in concentration, trying desperately to picture the rope’s knots in her mind. She needed to map it out before she could figure out how to escape.

The train was getting closer and closer - the wails of the engine and screech of the wheels building in a crescendo that permeated all of her thoughts and overrode every inch of her brain. She fumbled with the rope until the tips of her fingers were raw and her shoulders burned with exertion. The train, which she could now spot in the distance, flew towards her at a speed that seemed scientifically impossible. How had she gotten here? Where was she?

Too soon, the metallic glint of the locomotive was all she could focus on. She dropped the bundle of knots and let the rope fall from her hands. Her shoulders dropped and her glasses slipped down her nose as she stared at the moldy wooden tracks in front of her face. She refused to look over her shoulder at the engine that was barreling towards her. If she was to die today, so be it. She would meet her demise head on. 

Immediately, she felt the hot burn of the metal on her skin and cried out in pain. 

The guttural howl that left her lips woke her from the nightmare. She rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into her pillow to muffle the sounds of her heavy breathing. Tears that had been pooling in her closed eyes, now dampened the material of the pillow below her cheeks. The implication of her dream was not lost on her. 

She was going to testify in a Federal meeting today, and she was going to see  _ him _ . 

Mulder, the father of her children and the source of her heartbreak for the past two decades. It had been ages, years, since she’d seen him. Especially so close to the Hoover building. So many buried emotions had been unearthed as the date inched closer and closer. She had to admit, a runaway train  _ was _ an apt metaphor.

They didn’t keep in touch, she suspected it was too painful for him as well. With no children left and nothing to keep them together except shared trauma and a wicked co-dependence, they simply parted ways. Years of bonding down the proverbial drain, like soap scum. 

Life became a blur. How does one live alone after such a long, emotionally daunting relationship?

Her answer? A flight to London to met an old colleague on a whim. Said colleague had been charming and nonchalant about her emotional state and soon Scully found herself in a relationship to foreign to her, she sometimes wondered if she was lucid. It happened very quickly, but she had been incredibly lucky to come across someone who was so well versed in healing and coping. 

Stella Gibson had changed her life. Muller had changed her life too, but the pros and cons were so convoluted that keeping score was pointless. 

Where she would lay awake at night, dreaming about a life without conspiracy and pseudoscience, she now dreamt of simple domesticity and the occasional cocktail. Not to say that her relationship was not without challenge - quite the opposite. But, it was such a feeling to be with someone who was willing to work through pain, rather than pile it upon themselves in a half-assed attempt at martyrdom. 

Stella, was her antithesis in a way. Where Scully was joyous and relaxed, Stella was quiet and observant. Where Scully was healing, Stella was re-opening. Years of patriarchal bullshit weighed heavy on both of their minds and they both were attempting to live life in spite of it. 

A warm hand slid under her blanket and hooked one finger in the waistband of her pajama bottoms. 

“I’m okay,” Scully whispered and scooted a little closer to the woman next to her. Stella lifted her blanket wordlessly and tucked it over the pair of them once Scully had settled. 

Scully turned onto her side, careful not to expose herself to the chilled winter air of their apartment. Her arm ached in protest at being jostled in such a way, but she compromised. She was comfortable right now, and if she woke up with pins and needles, so be it. 

“Worried?” Stella mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. Scully knew she was asleep and wouldn’t actually listen, so she shushed her and slipped her hand under the pillow. As she tried to fall asleep again, she traced her fingers along the edge of the topsheet and wondered if Mulder was facing the same anxiety she was. 

  
  
  


The next morning came far too quickly. Scully hated how easily she fell back into her old routine. Grab the blouse, the pantyhouse, and the sensible suits. Start the coffee, spritz some perfume. She retroactively cursed herself for keeping so many of the suits left from her Bureau days. Most of them were too big from carrying William, a small token of her past that she refused to part with. Stella understood. Well, she said she did. There was no one alive who understood what she had gone through. 

The drive to the courthouse was quiet. Stella drove, something that had taken Scully by surprise. While she was certainly capable, Stella always insisted that driving in the US would send her to an early grave. 

So, when they resided in London, Stella drove and when they were stateside, Scully did the honors. 

The trial itself was a sham, ‘bureaucratic bullshit’ Skinner would call it. The FBI needed an official means to an end of the X Files after decades of it being dormant. Every outlet had been exhausted, and now that the Government could no longer outright lie to the public, they needed some sort of official testament about what should happen to the men in question. 

There would never be justice and there would always be men abusing power. That, coupled with the fact that Scully had been changed down to her DNA by the department, rendered her emotionally void to the subject. 

In short, she simply did not care what became of the X Files. It was an antiquated mission that had been warped and tangled so many times that it was barely recognizable. 

So, when she saw Mulder’s face fall when she voted to destroy the files, she shrugged and tried her best not to react. 

He tried to catch her eye as they left the building and she bit the inside of her cheek and kept walking. She recalled a time where he was able to look right past her as if she was a ghost of his past. 

So, she did the same. 

  
  
  


Later that night, Scully was so wound up from the day, she decided to take a bath. 

The moment she stepped into the uncomfortably hot water, she broke down. Years of silent tears and hidden heartbreak had taught her to be a stealthy weeper. Was that healthy? Of course not, but processing was disgusting and embarrassing but worth it in the end. 

“Darling?” a quiet whisper came from behind the door.

“Can’t you use the other bathroom?” Scully whined in a petulant tone. 

The door opened slightly to reveal Stella with two glasses of wine in tow. 

“Do you need to talk about it? About him? That couldn’t have been easy.” She sat the wine glasses down on the edge of the sink and perched on the edge of the toilet. 

“Every single time Mulder called for me, I came running. I chalked it up to duty, but it was so much deeper than that. I felt as if I owed it to him, for taking me in. For letting me work with him in the basement on a project so dear to him.”

“Oh, darling. That’s so far from the truth.” Stella looked at her with such love. “You owe him nothing.”

“He told me that once, but I knew he didn’t believe it. I ignored him. For the first time in my life, I walked past him.”

“Would he have done the same to you?” Stella handed her a glass. 

“He has before,” Scully admitted. “And I think he would have again.”

“I think so too. Men do strange things when they realize they’ve chased off everyone,” Stella sipped her wine slowly. “How can I help?”

“Get in,” Scully crossed her legs in the bath and scooted forward. When Stella gave her an incredulous look, she rolled her eyes.

“I just want to feel like someone has my back, figuratively and literally.” 

“I’m proud of you for admitting that.” Stella smiled as she disrobed. She hissed when she got into the tub. “Shit, this is hot.”

“Feels good,” Scully mumbled as she leaned back against Stella. “You feel good.”

“Not tonight,” Stella whispered, placing a solid kiss on Scully’s shoulder. “Tonight is for healing and rest. You deserve both.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Scully began openly weeping. 

“On the contrary,” Stella emotionally admitted. “We deserve each other.”

  
  



End file.
